Defender(97)

The pallor of Johnson's features had taken on a ghostly luminescence.

His jaw fell slack beneath the skin, softened at the jowls by middle age. "Finally, a signed deposition by Mr. Gregory Cornell, late of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. A telling tale indeed!"

"Alright, Davenport. What am I to do to sing for my supper? I'm sure not even you would be prepared to be the architect of such a scandal. You'll never form a watertight case against me. But I'm prepared to go quietly..." Morgan's fists clenched by his sides until they cracked audibly and a long hiss of suppressed rage escaped him. The heat generating within his body as he stifled the urge to spring across the room and tear Johnson limb from limb was overwhelming. Davenport sensed it. He continued, undeterred.

"You used your position and influence over many years to amass wealth and other considerable benefits at the cost of thousands of innocent lives. Your ability to be of influence, of course, grew exponentially as your career took you within reach of permanent appointment to your current role with, no doubt, aspirations to be appointed head of the Foreign Office itself. I once told Major Morgan here that you were driven by greed and self-aggrandisement. So, how very like you, Johnson, to consider yourself still important enough as to be worthy of a deal. The ultimate humiliation of social embarrassment and damage to your reputation must be more than you can bear. However, I'm afraid you won't be receiving any special dispensation."

Johnson shifted uncomfortably as Davenport continued.

'I'm sure you're aware that Violet Ashcroft-James has been carrying out a cull of the SIS. She has a number of officers who, like you, also considered themselves above the law, no doubt because they enjoyed the support of a very senior member of the diplomatic community - support which I am glad to say has come to an end." A small clock on the mantel of a Victorian fireplace quietly intoned 3p.m. "It was only a matter of time before her investigations linked one or other of them back to you, Johnson. Now all that's left is to follow the trail to your financial backers. But that's for another time."

Davenport allowed his words to sink in. Johnson sat dead still, hands sweating, flat against his knees. His eyes darted nervously between Davenport and Morgan.

"Victor Lundt is dead," Davenport said, flashing a casual glance over at Morgan. "Major Morgan took care of that, and it's been everything I could do to convince myself that I should not allow him to put you to the sword. Trust me, the thought crossed my mind, and I'm certain he would relish the opportunity."

"This is outrageous!" Johnson said indignantly, although his eyes implored mercy. He daren't allow himself to even look in Morgan's direction.

"Outrageous?" Davenport responded, his voice calm and measured. "When I consider the devastation that has resulted from your profiteering, I would think of it more as justice finally being served. But then, we're civilised people."

The General paused. "You know, when I was asked to establish INTREPID, Johnson, I accepted it on the basis of my faith in the inherent good of humankind. I adopted the motto of the Celts - To the brave belong all things - to mark our commitment to defending that faith." Davenport fixed his stare upon Johnson and his tone became dark and foreboding. "In our line of business, we are on occasion responsible for sending brave young men and women into harm's way. You know that. The fact that you would deliberately use your own people and others, and put them in harm's way in order to amass your fortune and further your career is astonishing. To then suggest an out clause is beyond comprehension. No, Johnson, there'll be no out clause for you. You're right about one thing, though. We will be avoiding a scandal."

The General stood. "Mr. Cornell is currently under the protection of the Metropolitan Police, and will remain so until you have been tried and sentenced. At this moment, Chief Superintendent Hargreaves and his officers from the Special Branch are waiting outside. They will take you from here to Scotland Yard where Commissioner Hutton himself is awaiting your arrival. Once in his custody, the wheels of the British justice system will begin to turn. Your trial will be held in secrecy and your sentence passed accordingly. Abraham Johnson will disappear from public life, stripped of status and Honours, to rot in a cell somewhere in the bowels of this island."

"But... you can't! There must be some other way?" Johnson was on his feet. His body shook with dread, knowing that his life's work was crumbling around him, dreams of a knighthood, power and respect, all so close, now sailing away before his eyes. He thought nothing of the lives lost, or the damage he had inflicted on others. Those things were not real to Abraham Johnson. General Davenport saw it written all over the man's utterly defeated expression.